


glass vase, cello case

by crunchrapsupreme



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Blow Jobs, Crossdressing, Erejean Week, Erejean Week 2015, Fluff, Genderfluid, Hand Jobs, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-04
Updated: 2015-04-04
Packaged: 2018-03-21 04:38:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,068
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3677790
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crunchrapsupreme/pseuds/crunchrapsupreme
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“You know," Eren says with a nervous little grin, "this is our third date and you haven’t even tried to kiss me, yet.”</p>
<p>-</p>
<p>or, the one where jean meets a cute boy at a concert who has insanely adorable fashion sense and jean may or may not be a little smitten</p>
            </blockquote>





	glass vase, cello case

**Author's Note:**

> written for day four of erejean week: gender
> 
> i know it's a day late but work with me here i am but a lazy young adult okay

Jean meets him at some local punk concert in some underground bar in a shitty part of town. The smell of beer is strong, and smoke fills the air, casting the room in a slight haze. It makes his eyes sting just a bit, but Jean ignores it, taking a swig of his beer as he settles back against the wall.

He’s not really one for dancing - or, moshing, really. Jean can’t really dignify the thrashing bodies and shoving around going on in front of him as _dancing_. The local band that’s playing is a little too hardcore for Jean’s taste, but the drum beat is good, rich and consistent, and Jean bobs his head along, watching the drunken lot of people like an ocean wave in front of him.

A body is thrown out of the mess of people, bumping straight into Jean and causing him to spill his beer down the front of his shirt, and Jean makes an irritated noise and shoves the body away.

“Oh, fuck, dude, I’m sorry,” the kid says, and Jean finally looks up from his soiled shirt, and he blinks slowly at the sight.

The boy is wearing a boots with ripped stockings, a short black pleated skirt, and a tight fitting tee shirt that says ‘Reggae before Bae-gge’. Jean’s not sure if it’s hilariously ironic, or if it’s just fucking stupid, and he tries to scowl when the kid grins, all sharp teeth and pink cheeks. His hair is sweat damp and messy from the mosh pit, and he runs a hand through it as he says,

“Stay right there, okay? I’m gonna go buy you another beer.”

Jean opens his mouth to protest (and if he were honest with himself, if it were anyone else in this bar who bumped into him he’d demand _two_ beers in return, but this boy has a slight, distinct curve to his waist, and Jean can see the soft, slightly tanned skin of his upper thigh where a large, frayed hole in his stockings is, and Jean’s throat has literally gone dry, fuck).

The skirt thing is throwing him off a little bit, though. Not in - well, not in a _bad_ way, just. Jean’s usually not super concerned with other people’s feelings, but for some godforsaken reason he doesn’t want to upset this kid. Or offend him. Even though his nice shirt is all sticky with beer now, Jean can’t find it in himself to be as mad as he usually would be.

He chalks it up to the alcohol in his system.

When the dude returns, he hands Jean a bottle of bud, and it’s not Jean’s normal preferred brew, but he drinks it anyways, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand once he’s chugged a sufficient amount. The bar seems hazier, for some reason, and when he looks back at the stranger in front of him, he’s met with glittering aqua eyes, almost comically beautiful with smudged black eyeliner traced around them.

“I’m Eren,” he says, crowding a little closer to Jean so he can hear him over the band.

“Are you a boy or a girl?” Jean blurts out, and immediately winces when he hears himself, because shit, was that rude? He meant to ask a question more on the lines of ‘what pronouns’ do you use’, because his friend Marco had given him an extensive lesson on gender and sexuality after taking that three week summer course of Psychology last year.

But he’s a little past tipsy, and his words aren’t forming exactly right, but Eren’s not glaring at him or trying to break his nose, so.

“Uh. Kind of both?” Eren says, sticking his tongue out a bit and shrugging. Cute. “I mean, I don’t really think about it much. I just wear whatever I feel like wearing,” and then he smiles, smoothing down the front of his skirt. “Dresses are my favorite. They’re so _comfortable_ , dude.”

Jean hums, tries to settle down the beating of his heart, attempting to convince himself it’s _just the band, it’s just the smoke, it’s just the alcohol_ , when he knows deep down, it’s really, really not.

Eren’s smiling at him again, nods towards the  hurdle of sweaty bodies. “Wanna dance?”

Jean raises an eyebrow. “You mean drunkenly throw my body around and try not to break any bones? No thanks.”

Eren snorts, chugs his beer, and then says, “Well, _I_ didn’t come here to stand around like a wallflower. Sorry again about your shirt!”

And then he’s disappearing back into the swarm of bodies, dissolving from sight, and Jean internally curses himself for not getting the boy’s number or _something_. He grumbles to himself, pulling out his phone so it looks like he has something to do, because he’s _not_ a loser, thank you very -

“ _Wha_ \- ?” Jean exclaims when his phone is literally _snatched_ from his hands, the fuck?

It’s Eren again, his face flushed and his body out of breath, panting slightly as he taps away at Jean’s phone. Jean’s frozen to the spot, staring at the way Eren bites his bottom lip when he’s concentrating. When Jean looks down at his phone in Eren’s hands, he sees the boy has chipped, dark purple nail polish on, and Jean suddenly wonders what those fingers would look like wrapped around his -

“Oh! I never caught your name…?”

Jean chokes a bit, pushes those previous thoughts from his brain as he supplies, “Jean. My name’s Jean.”

“Jean,” Eren says, testing it out, and then he’s grinning again, “Text me, yeah?”

Before Jean can even respond, Eren’s shoving Jean’s phone back at him before diving back into the crowd, his skirt fluttering with the movement until he’s no longer visible in the sea of bodies. When Jean looks down at his phone, he sees he has a new contact, and when he goes home that night, the imprint of short skirts and wide shoulders are seared into his brain.

\--

It turns out, Jean has class with Eren’s best friend, Armin, and he only knows that because he sees Eren drop Armin off once when Armin’s car is broken down, and Jean proceeds to drop his mouth open and stare unabashedly because Eren drives a _motorcycle_ , and he’s wearing a pretty floral dress with ratty combat boots, and Jean’s stomach drops down to his toes.

Armin waves as Eren speeds off, and when he bounds up to the building and greets Jean, Jean blurts out,

“You know _Eren_?”

“Eren’s my best friend. I’ve known him since we were kids.” Armin furrows his eyebrows. “How do _you_ know him?”

Jean scratches the back of his neck, face going a bit pink. “Uh. I met him a couple days ago at a bar?”

Armin’s eyes widen, and then he’s grinning wide enough to make his eyes squint. “ _You’re_ the dude from the bar?”

Jean purses his lips, crossing his arms and staring down at Armin petulantly as they walk to class. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing,” Armin says, waving him off, and Jean glances down at his phone, shooting a quick _nice bike, punk_ to Eren before sitting down in his seat and getting his books out.

Halfway through the lecture, his phone vibrates against his thigh, and Jean slips it out, grinning to himself.

_thanks ;) ill take u on a ride someday, hot shot_

\--

Eren tells Jean the only reason why he gave him his number that night was because after the beer drenched Jean’s shirt, Eren could see his nipple piercings through the fabric and Eren apparently has a _thing_ for that, but Jean knows deep down thats not the _only_ reason, though Eren still loves to consistently tease him about it.

“You looked bitter and sad, standing there all alone,” he says, “I was actually _happy_ I made you spill your beer for a second. But fuck, then I saw those piercings through your shirt and I swear to god, my mouth started _watering_ and - ”

Jean’s also learned that Eren has absolutely _no shame_ or public decency, and Jean clamps a hand over his mouth before he can finish that thought, glancing apologetically at the middle aged woman sitting next to them in the cafe. 

Eren licks his hand, and Jean splutters and yanks his arm back while Eren cackles loudly. One of his barrettes has come a little loose, and Jean grumbles before reaching over and clipping it back into place in Eren’s fringe. Jean brought him the barrettes on their second date (currently, they’re on their third), and the clips have small purple space ships on them, because Jean remembered Eren telling him he loved space.

“It makes my brain hurt, thinking about all the shit out there,” he had said, waving an arm towards the cloudy sky as Jean walked him back to his motorcycle. “But like, in the good way, you know?”

Jean honestly _didn’t_ know, but when he saw the hair clips at some kiosk one day, he bought them with only minimal stuttering, and handed them to Eren the next time they went out.

Eren stops laughing as Jean adjusts his barrette, and when Jean pulls away, Eren’s cheeks are flushed a pretty pink, and Jean smiles a bit as he links their pinky fingers together on the table. Eren’s wearing coral pink polish this time, and it’s already chipping around the edges because he’s a nail biter. Jean pictures the sting of those fingers biting into his skin, Eren’s dragging welts down his skin, and Jean’s cheeks burn as he lets his eyes fall back down to the table, clearing his throat quietly.

Later that night, fingers linked together as Eren walks Jean to his apartment, where his motorcycle is parked, Eren turns to him and bumps their shoulders, says,

“You know, this is our third date and you haven’t even tried to kiss me, yet.”

Jean coughs a bit, tightening his fingers around Eren’s, and his skin feels clammy all of a sudden. Eren’s wearing jeans tonight with a simple, oversized sweater that hangs about mid-thigh. He’s just about drowning in the fabric, and when Jean locks eyes with him, the street light above them turn his usually tan skin sallow, almost sickly, but his eyes are as bright and as hopeful as ever.

Eren ends up having to tug Jean by the collar because Jean’s frozen on the spot, and when their lips touch, Jean lets out a shaky exhale. Eren’s mouth is soft and warm, tasting like cinnamon and coffee from the latte he had at the cafe. Jean licks into his mouth once he finally relaxes, winding his arms around Eren’s waist and holding him close enough that the toes of their shoes almost overlap. It’s lazy and comfortable, and Eren’s gone almost limp in his arms, apparently having a huge thing for the tiny bites and soothing licks against his bottom lip Jean’s been busy doing.

“Mm,” Eren hums quietly, eyes fluttering open, and when he pulls back, his stupidly adorable spaceship hair barrette is crooked again, so Jean just purses his lip as he reaches up to fix it before stepping away, linking their fingers once more, and continuing down the sidewalk. Eren’s grip seems a little tighter than it was before, and when Jean glances over, the boy is biting his lip on a smile.

\--

“You’re going about this all wrong.”

“Fuck off, I’m doing _fine_.”

“No, fuck, if you keep on charging at everyone like a goddamned madman, your health will get eaten away before you even get a chance to kill  - ”

“My health is fine! Look!”

“For _now_ ,” Jean points out sternly, watching as Eren once again just bolts head first at another enemy. This one’s fast, though, and Eren resorts to smashing the buttons and using up literally over _half of his plasmid._ They’ve been playing BioShock for a good hour now, Eren curled up in Jean’s lap while Jean tries not to backseat drive too much, but shit, Eren seems to be the greatest video game health-waster Jean’s ever met.

“You literally suck _so bad_ at this game, oh my god,” Jean says, almost sounding awed, and Eren just sticks his tongue out as he smashes the buttons some more. He doesn’t seem to be getting any farther than he was before, so Jean sighs and rolls his eyes, removing one of his arms from Eren’s waist in order to try and snatch the controller.

“Just let me do it, you’re going to kill yourself,” he says, and Eren makes a noise of protest as the controller is plucked from his hands, turning his head to glare at Jean. Jean just smirks at him, but then Eren’s shoving him down on the couch, grabbing the controller back and scooting to the other end, away from Jean.

“I’ll beat him! Just give me a second!” Eren whines, but Jean’s already got a playful glint in his eyes, and before Eren can say anything, Jean’s sliding over to him and knocking the controller from his hands. It lands with a soft _thud_ on the carpet, and Eren’s glare dissolves into anxiousness when Jean’s hands creep up his sides. Eren’s wearing a short, almost paper-thin looking sundress, pale blue with tiny sunflowers printed all over it, and Jean can feel the soft give of his stomach and the bumps of his ribs through the fabric as he trails his fingers along the expanse of Eren’s torso.

“Jean,” Eren manages, looking beautifully nervous, and his pinched expression dissolves into a smile, breathy giggles escaping his lips as Jean digs his fingers in.

Jean’s learned that Eren is almost unbearably ticklish, and he uses that to his advantage most of the time. Also, his laughter is endearing and hiccupy, his body squirming and arching up as Jean tickles his stomach and sides through his dress.

“F-fucking _quit it!_ ” Eren laughs, but he’s not trying particularly hard to get away. All of the squirming movements have bunched his dress up, though, the tops of his thighs now visible, and when Eren arches his back once more, the fabric slips higher and pools right below his navel, and Jean’s mouth goes dry.

Eren’s wearing a pair of panties, simple white cotton with two tiny pink bows near his hips, and Jean doesn’t know _what_ he thought would be under the dress. Boxers? No, those would bunch too much. Briefs? Possibly. But nothing could’ve prepared him for what Eren would look like now, his cock half hard and growing, in a pair of cute underwear.

Jean slows his touches, and Eren twitches a bit, still giggling, and he flushes slightly when Jean’s eyes don’t move from their target.

“Dude, stop staring at my dick,” Eren giggles again, nervously, and Jean, delirious with attraction, gently pushes Eren’s dress a little higher, gripping the boy’s hips.

“Can I suck you off?”

Eren seems to choke on his tongue, his cheeks getting even more flushed than before, but he doesn’t say no. Jean slides a hand up Eren’s chest, feeling his heart fluttering rapidly beneath his palm, and Eren swallows thickly, says,

“ _Please_.”

_So fucking sweet_ , Jean thinks as he licks his lips and gently slides the panties down just enough to free Eren’s dick. It’s hardening steadily, and Jean breathes hotly over the tip, flicking his tongue out and shivering at the quiet little mewl Eren lets out, his fingers digging almost desperately into the couch cushions. Jean holds his hips tighter, takes a short breath, and then takes Eren down to the hilt.

When his cock hits the back of Jean’s throat, Eren whines around a broken little moan, knees knocking into Jean’s shoulders and hips attempting to buck up, but Jean’s holding him down tightly, swallowing around his length. Eren is heavy and velvet-soft on his tongue, and Jean can feel himself hardening just from the _sounds_ Eren’s making, fuck.

“G-gonna - _Jean_ , I’m - ”

His voice is light and breathless, and when he comes, his toes curl and his body arches, teeth digging into the fat of his bottom lip as he breathes out harshly through his nose, twitching in the aftershocks as Jean licks him clean. He whines when Jean continues licking at his softening cock, over-sensitized and smothered in the best way, and Jean finally pulls away with a smile, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

“Shit, you’re cute,” Jean says with a grin when he sits up and sees Eren’s debauched appearance, his flushed face and unruly hair splayed out against the couch cushions. Eren bites his lip on a shy smile, rolling his eyes as he tugs his panties back up and crawls forward, piling into Jean’s lap and kissing him, hard and perfect. His hands cup the sides of Jean’s face, delicate and gentle, and Eren reaches down, shoves his hand down Jean’s sweatpants, and jerks him off under the veil of his dress.

Jean bunches Eren’s dress up near his stomach when he comes, away from the mess he’s making against himself, and Eren kisses his temple, not-so-quietly endeared with the small, considerate action.

And later, with Eren curled up against his chest, fast asleep only halfway through the first season of Gossip Girl, Jean finds himself pressing a kiss to the boy’s hair. Eren sniffles his in slumber, curling his fingers gently into the folds of Jean’s teeshirt, near his collar. The rapid wings beating in his chest slow down just enough for Jean to fall asleep himself, and he thinks back to the night they first met; the sticky, beer-covered shirt, the lightening bolt of connection he felt the first time he looked into Eren’s fiery gaze, and then he thinks about the first time they had an extensive conversation over text.

_you dont say things you dont mean. thats why i like u, john,_ Eren had texted, and Jean had rolled his eyes before responding; _it’s spelled jean, actually._

_well ur ‘john the nipple dude’ in my phone rn and im not changing it,_ Eren had replied, and later that night, nearing four am, Jean’s eyelids droopy and heavy, Eren had sent one last, simple text, and Jean fell asleep that night with his phone clutched to his chest;

_one last thing. dnt be weirded out or anything, but i think we might b soul mates. goodnite jean._

**Author's Note:**

> come say hi on [tumblr](http://crunchrapsupreme.tumblr.com) 8)


End file.
